Define 'fun'
by greenfly
Summary: What happens when Peeves and Harry pair up against the students? One can only guess. You don't know how tempted I am to call this 'Pottering about with Peeves'... It's a bit slow to begin with, but will soon start picking up.
1. The End of War

**Define 'fun'**

By Greenfly

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing that is copyrighted (in this case – anything Harry Potter related), so please don't sue. This applies to all of my fics. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

I have taken a lot of privileges with this fic – all in the name of 'artistic license', of course. I've listed them here so if you don't like, you don't have to read.

a) This is very much an AU OoP. Sirius is dead (gasp) but Dumbly-dore isn't – my reason? I enjoy writing him.

b) Harry knows about the Horcruxes and Prophecy etc (explained in this chapter).

c) Harry's been very busy over the summer and no one came with him. Hermione, Ron and co. are in their seventh year at Hogwarts (mainly to save me from having to introduce an entire cast of OC's and confusing everyone).

d) Snape is teaching Potions still, and Professor Geuse is teaching Defense. Why? Slughorn annoys me and I thought I should be allowed _some_ fun with an OC...

Now that that's over with, ENJOY!

* * *

**Chapter One. "Only the dead have seen the end of war." – Plato**

It was the end of summer and Harry was through. Tired. Fed up. Near the finish line. Whatever you want to call it, he was done. So Harry called for an end to it. All the Horcruxes but one were destroyed and he knew where the last one was. All he had left to take care of was old Voldemort himself, and then he could rest. So that's where he was now. Alone with the 'master' in a one-on-one duel to… the end. Finally.

"You've been destroying my Horcruxes boy." Harry grinned in reply, wand at the ready. "But you know the funniest thing?" Voldemort bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile, his pointed teeth flashing eerily in the half-light.

"Go on." Harry encouraged, mildly interested.

"Well, you're the only one in the whole wide wizarding world who can defeat me." Voldemort threw out his arms and laughed. "But you can't, because you, boy, are the last Horcrux." Harry's smile slipped slightly but he recovered quickly.

"So you know the Prophecy. Took you long enough..." But Voldemort would not be provoked; he was too busy cackling maniacally.

"You can't defeat me boy! Don't you see? For to do so you'd have to kill yourself!" More laughter; this time met and rivalled by Harry's own. Voldemort's cackling died – he'd expected the boy to be miserable. This was no fun! Loathe as he was to admit it, he was confused. Soon Harry's laughter was the only noise to be heard in the empty room and when it abruptly stopped the silence became deafening.

A look Voldemort recognised crossed Harry's face. That was what he wanted to see! Sorrow! The boy had realised that Voldemort was immortal after all. Clever lad. But the look was only there for a second before a mask of resolution settled onto the boy's face and Harry raised his wand. What was he doing? Now the boy knew the truth was he trying to join Lord Voldemort? Ha! Not on Voldemort's immortal life.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

Tom Marvolo Riddle fell like a stone, confusion etched upon his handsome 70 year old face.

Patting the side pocket of his worn robe and looking mildly relieved, Harry breathed deeply before turning his wand upon himself. Holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather, cast its last spell.

* * *

Their bodies were found days later. A diary was found in Harry's pocket, describing everything that he had discovered, the Horcruxes, the Prophecy and the fact thatVoldemortknew its content, what Harry had come there to do and, if he was found, what he had succeeded in doing. 

A small, nondescript headstone was erected near a place called Godric's Hollow soon after, close by the graves of two marauders and a Lily Potter. It was approved by those who knew him best, but visitors in years to come would find it surprising and almost humorous.

"Harry Potter. Peace at last."

* * *

**A/N**

This WILL be a humour fic – have no fear! But these first two chapters needed to be done. The pace and humour should begin to pick up towards the end of chapter two, and be set to go in chapter three. Just bear with me, ok? Grin.

Voldy's original age in this chapter was 50, my reasoning being that he was approx. 10 yrs older than the Marauders. Thankfully, Jessa L'Rynn has come up with his proper age and I have changed it to 70. If he seems a bit old to you, belowis her reasoning, which I happen to agree with. Thanks Jessa!

"Well, Tom was at Hogwarts 50 years before CoS, and he was in fifth year, then, which would make him 16 then. So he should've been 66 (except he spent some time dead) and if Harry gets him during summer after 6th year, he'll be 70. Nice round number."


	2. Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Man

**Define 'fun'**

By Greenfly

'Scuse the fluff, it had to be done. :-)

**Chapter Two – Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Man**

As consciousness slowly returned, Harry was surprised to find himself lying on something reasonably soft. He lay there for a few moments trying to figure out where he was; the feeling of starched sheets against his skin being vaguely familiar… He cracked one eye open slightly and was met by an almost blinding whiteness. Deciding he could only be in the Hospital Wing, Harry closed his eye again and prepared to go back to sleep. That was until his memories caught up with him. If he was alive and in the Hospital Wing… Harry felt horror suffocating him as a giant hand clenched his stomach. He had failed.

Harry sunk further into the bed, no longer wanting to sleep but not yet ready to face the world. The questions his friends would have. Dumbledore. The press. The student body of Hogwarts. Snape… He almost missed the quiet voice.

"James, hurry! He's waking up."

_James?_

Harry felt someone grab his hand while another person grabbed his other and lightly brushed some of the hair away from his face. Harry remained stock still with his eyes tightly shut and was scared almost witless when a third person jumped onto the end of his bed and decided to sit on his feet. Who were these people? But why should he care? He had failed…

"Padfoot, get off my son. He's newly dead, and you know how that hurts like a bitch."

_Hurt? DEAD?_

Harry's eyes snapped open in time to see an auburn-haired woman lean across him and hit a tall man upside the head. The offended man muttered a pathetic 'ow' before turning to glare at the person still lounging comfortably on Harry's legs. Harry didn't manage to see much however, because the woman had noticed his eyes were open and – after emitting some kind of high pitched squeak – had launched herself and grabbed hold of him in some kind of mother-of-all-bear-hugs.

"Sweetheart…"

If Harry hadn't managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes, he'd still without a doubt know who she was. His throat clenched.

"M- Mum?" He choked. Her slight nod was all he needed before wrapping both arms around her shoulders tightly enough to crack a rib, and hugged her with all his might. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh. She smelled kind of like… lavender and cooking, just as he'd always imagined she would. Harry buried his head in her shoulder, trying not to cry. He breathed in again, more deeply this time and had to abruptly break off the hug because he'd inhaled some of her hair.

When his hacking subsided, Harry looked up to see his reflection.

"Wha- ?" Then his reflection grinned at him and reached out to affectionately ruffle his hair. "Dad?"

James' felt his jaw click he was smiling so much. And then he could help himself no longer. Harry found himself yanked by the shoulders into a very manly hug from his father, who seemed to have an obsession with ruffling his son's hair. When they pulled apart, the hand lingered in his hair, and although James kept his eyes fastened on Harry's he addressed the person still sitting on his son's feet.

"I see what you mean Padfoot." (Another ruffle) "Very ruffle-able."

Harry's eyes widened and locked on the person who was sitting on him so comfortably. There was Sirius, sitting Indian-style in a way that looked as if he was attempting levitation through meditation, the only differences being that a) he was sitting on Harry (who could no longer feel his legs) instead of the floor, and b) his eyes were open and staring at Harry, shining and glinting and sparkling so much that Harry thought he might have poured glitter in them before coming.

"Mini-Prongs! Good to see ya!"

"Sirius…" Who knew Lily could sound so threatening?

"Fine, fine. Come 'ere Harry, give us a sqwudge." Sirius held his arms open expectantly. His only reply from the boy he had loved like his own son was a smirk. "What?" Harry raised an eyebrow and indicated his legs with a discrete nod of his head. "Oh…"

Suddenly Harry found himself to be standing barefoot on a plush deep red carpet. That's all he had time to see though because within seconds he had spotted Sirius in front of him and rugby-tackled him in a hug. Sirius didn't seem to mind, and returned the 'sqwudge' with equal if not exceeding enthusiasm.

Minutes later, the entire family (plus dog) were seated around a small coffee table in front of a raging fire (closely resembling the one in Gryffindor common room) and cradling cups of warm butterbeer. They had a lot of catching up to do…

* * *

Harry could not tell if they had talked for days or only a few hours – time didn't seem to pass here. He'd heard more stories than he could count and his cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much. He'd heard about some of James' attempts to prove himself to Lily, had heard a _lot_ about himself as a 'kiddo', a great deal about the time when Sirius had lived at the Potters' and some about the Marauders. Peter was mentioned often but always with affection and that was one of the strange things about being here Harry decided; it didn't bother him at all. He found himself hoping to meet Peter and see his good side, and hear more about his adventures with James, Sirius and Remus.

And there was another strange thing. No matter how many stories were told, none of his family would go into any detail about pranks played. If the story called for it he was told that a prank had been played, but never what it was and if anything could this disturbed Harry. Weren't the Marauders famous for their pranks? How could they have played so few? But Harry ignored this for the time being and heartily ate the treacle tart that had just appeared in front of him as he listened to Lily recounting a tale about when James had tackled her in the middle of the great hall, she had left him lying on the floor next to Remus and Sirius, and Peter had dived and landed across all three of their most sensitive areas. To add to Harry's amusement, Sirius attempted to deny it while James just buried his face in his hands in amused embarrassment.

Harry finished his treacle pudding and sliding the bowl onto the coffee table, relaxed back into the sofa, hands loosely clasped across his happily full stomach and head tilted back as he watch the flickering red glow from the fire on the ceiling.

"Is this heaven?" He asked, sitting in complete bliss. He missed the looks exchanged between the other three.

"Harry? Do you feel up for a quidditch match? I want to see those legendary skills first hand…"

Sirius clapped James on the back. "Mate, you don't know what you missed. My godson is a natural. Remember his first quidditch match? Spectacular… All my talent of course."

"We're very proud of you Harry." Stated Lily, smiling.

And that was another strange thing. They all seemed to know exactly what he had done during his entire life. But that didn't register with Harry just yet. Flushed with the praise from his mother, he grabbed the broom he found behind the sofa and raced Sirius through a side door which he instinctively knew hid a quidditch pitch.

* * *

It was a close match (Lily and Harry scraping a victory) and when it was over the tired group retreated back to the now very familiar sofas and coffee table.

"I think your losing your touch, dearest godson of mine." Joked Sirius, handing Harry (another) mug of butterbeer. "Not as smooth as that match against the Slytherins in… fourth year was it?" He looked at Harry for confirmation as Lily helped herself to the food on James' plate.

At the question, something that had been lingering at the back of Harry's mind slid into place.

"How do you know everything I did? Even when you weren't there?"

James shot Harry a surprised look as he held his plate above Lily's head, finally having noticed where half his grub was going.

"We watched you of course." He said, as if it was obvious.

Harry perked up at the reply. "Can I watch people? Can I see Ron and Hermione? I want to see how their doing…"

Thick silence greeted him. "What are you looking at each other like that for? If this is heaven I should be allowed to! You did, after all…"

"Bedtime!" Lily announced, abandoning her conquest of James' plate and jumping up to usher her son out the room.

"Hey! I don't need to sleep here! What are you doing?"

"You don't _need_ to sleep here, but we do it anyway. Sleep is always one of the most enjoyable pastimes, wouldn't you agree Master Prongs?"

"I'd have to say I do Master Padfoot. And as we can all see, Master Mini-Prongs here is in desperate need of his beauty sleep."

"Hey!"

Sirius turned a sorrowful look upon his comrade and solemnly said "Master Prongs, I'm afraid to say that no amount of beauty sleep will ever cure your son of his… problems."

"HEY!" But then Lily succeeded in throwing Harry out of the room, and after the door clicked shut Harry could hear no more. With a shrug, he wandered off down the hall and found an inviting room with a bed in the middle and chocolates on the pillow.

* * *

Harry was dreaming of when Dumbledore had offered the Dursleys a drink in sixth year and they had refused, leaving the glasses containing the amber liquid to merrily bounce off their heads. The problem was, every time one of the glasses nudged one of the Dursleys in his dream, something stabbed him in the side. _Stab stab. _What?

Now the stabbing was accompanied by something licking his hand. Eeew… Absently he swatted at the thing – or _things_ – that were bothering him but unfortunately missed. Never the quitter, Harry swatted again and hit something – which _grunted_.

Grunted?

Harry shot up in bed, eyes searching the room. He was just in time to see the rear-ends of a dog and stag bolt from his room. _Great_ he thought, collapsing back against his pillows. _Just what I wanted to see first thing in the morning. Two backsides.

* * *

_

When Harry got up soon after, he found his family sitting smack-bang in the middle of the quidditch pitch, heartily consuming a breakfast picnic of scones, jam, clotted cream, milk, tea, juice and of course – treacle tart. How quaint. And weird, now he came to think of it…

It was after they'd all finished and gone back inside (congregating round the infamous coffee table once more) that Harry posed his question again.

"Can I see Ron and Hermione now?"

Another look was shared and Harry growled slightly in annoyance. Seeing the warning sign, Lily stopped trying to balance a teacup on her head and grabbed one of Harry's hands, leaning forward so that she could look him fully in the eye.

"Harry, there's something we haven't told you. That we need to tell you." Harry's good mood disappeared at Lily's sad and sombre tone.

"Yes?" He was getting worried now.

"Well… you're not really dead."

"What?"

"You're not really dead."

"…

What?"

Sirius threw up his hands in mock despair and knocked on Harry's skull as if listening for an echo, yelling "You're not really dead! Jeez, is the kid deaf or what?"

Harry just sat there, not even attempting to dodge the battering his abused skull was receiving.

"What?"

Lily pointed at James. "It was your father's idea."

Harry's eyes narrowed and a dangerous note crept into his voice. _"What?"_

"And we have life!" Sirius threw up his hands once more and collapsed backwards onto the sofa, flapping his hands furiously in front of his face in an attempt to fan himself, heaving as if he'd just done the run of his life.

Meanwhile, after a hissed _'Lily! You promised!',_ James shifted nervously in his seat, trying to avoid his son's angry gaze. "Sirius?" He begged for help.

And like the tactful knight in shining armour he is, Sirius stepped to the rescue.

"Your daddydums and I, after much deliberation, decided that – when you died – we weren't happy with what you'd accomplished during your life."

Harry's eyes narrowed further. "_What?"_ How DARE they? After all he'd done!

Sirius whacked him on the head. "Don't interrupt! I don't mean it like _that_ you donut!" _Donut?_ "I mean, we don't reckon you had enough fun. So we stopped you from properly dying and we're sending you back. Aren't we brilliant?" Sirius sighed, comfortable in the knowledge of his brilliancy.

Harry felt as if he was about to explode. He _couldn't_ live. Not again. He couldn't! He didn't want to go back there! He wanted rest and peace. Surely he deserved that? Surely?

"Please don't." Harry ignored his slowly dampening eyes and looked at his parents and godfather with despair in his heart. Surely he'd earned peace? Being hunted and fighting every year of his life, not knowing his family, sacrificing himself for everyone… Surely, surely that meant he could rest? Surely? What new cruelty was this? "Please…"

Lily looked as if her heart would break. James looked a bit guilty and Sirius was admiring the shininess of his fingernails.

"Harry, we're sending you back to Hogwarts with Hermione and Ron. The advantage is you won't have any of this lesson palaver. Your mission, agent Mini-Prongs, is to create as much havoc as possible. You have to pull a specified number of seven pranks before you can rejoin your fellow pranking masters in paradise. Then you can rest."

Lily still had not let go of his hand. "They only wanted you to have a bit of fun dear."

Harry felt miserable. Sure, pranking sounded like fun but how would that work out? He voiced his doubts out loud.

"What about consequences? How will I get away with everything? And how come I don't need to go to classes if I'm going back?"

"Ah, you see, that's where the genius of your father and I stepped in. We're sending you back…" Sirius leaned in to whisper. "… as a _poltergeist_."

"WHAT?"

"Brilliant isn't it?"

Harry sat back down again. A poltergeist? Him? Oh Merlin…

This was going to be fun!

"Seven pranks and then I can come back?" Harry double-checked with his father.

"Yep, just seven. But they have to be good, big and original. If you don't do a prank but manage to cause a great deal of havoc and get some students in trouble, that also counts. Do the seven and then you can come back here. How's that sound?"

"And Mum, you're ok with this?" Harry asked, struggling to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Lily smiled. "Do I have any choice?"

Harry thought for a second, head tilted to one side. "No, not really." He turned back to his father. "When do I go?"

James smiled. "31st of August."

"Good." Grabbing another bowl of treacle pie, Harry settled himself more comfortably onto the sofa to enjoy as much as he could of the time he had left.

Mission? Cause havoc. Mission Data? No foreseeable consequences for actions. No reason to care what anyone else thinks or says. Have to uphold reputation for havoc in the name of all poltergeists.

This sounded like fun…

* * *

When the night of the 30th of August came, Harry was bade farewell by his family in a way that would have done Mrs Weasley proud. Many man-hugs, kisses, rufflings of hair and 'sqwudges' later, Harry was handed a very familiar old boot. Portkey out of heaven? That was new one...

The only difference was that it knocked him unconscious, and when he awoke he was lying on his back in the most comfortable bed that could be dreamed into existence. It felt as if it was made of air, which indeed it was – as Harry soon came to realise.

"GAH!" With an impressive bang, he fell to the floor. Gingerly Harry sat up, surprised that he felt no pain. Rearranging his glasses on his face he heaved himself up off of the floor and looked at his surroundings. An abandoned classroom. Great. Just great.

Wait a minute…

Who were _they_? Those people – staring at him. Much more than twenty, a hundred maybe? Who were they? What were they doing here? Why were they smiling? And… and why were they see-through? Merlin…

One of them stepped forward and held out a hand.

"Welcome to Hogwarts! I… am…" The cheerful voice of the Friar died away as he properly looked at Harry's face, recognition shining in his shocked eyes. And Harry finally realised where he was, and who they were. The Hogwarts ghosts! He was here. Oh Merlin…

"Harry? Harry Potter? Dear boy…"

Harry smiled nervously and waved a timid hand.

"Hullo."

After at least 5 seconds of the Fat Friar spluttering in his face, Harry's gaze slid to those congregated behind him. The Bloody Baron – was he smiling? Creepy… Most of them were wearing breeches and tights and a few Harry thought he vaguely recognised… Then a ghost Harry knew well pushed his way forward.

"Nick!"

"Harry? Is that really you?" Harry nodded eagerly.

"I can't say I'm happy to see you landed with our lot…" Nick began mournfully, indicating himself and the other undead (some of whom scowled slightly (speak for yourself!)), "But who am I kidding? We need fresh blood." A grin enveloped Sir Nicholas' face. "Welcome back Harry Potter! And welcome to the Hogwarts' ghosts. Allow me to, er… re-introduce you to everyone… I believe you already know our dear Friar and are well acquainted with the Bloody Baron…?" Each stepped forward to shake his hand, memories of being chased by the Bloody Baron during first year springing to mind… Oblivious to Harry's discomfort at the smirk the Baron was giving him, Nick continued with his introductions, seemingly knowing everyone there. Harry was just getting to the point where he was wondering if hands – even undead ones – could be shaken off, when he came face-to-face with none other than Moaning Myrtle. Oh Merlin, he hoped she didn't still have a crush on him…

"Hi Harry." She spoke softly, sidling up to him and resolutely ignoring his outstretched hand. Her eyelashes fluttered behind her thick glasses in what she thought must have been an alluring way. "You can always share my toilet if you like." She smiled, as if Harry would want nothing more in the afterlife than to join her sitting somewhere in a U-bend.

"Erm… thanks a lot Myrtle but…"

A boisterous voice from the back of the room saved him from answering.

"Hey! Why aren't you transparent?"

"Huh?" But Harry'd heard, and now all the other ghosts were whispering.

Nick shifted his 'weight' from foot to foot from where he stood beside Harry and Moaning Myrtle pulled away from him to appraise him better.

"Why _aren't_ you transparent?"

"Erm…"

Myrtle's eyes began to well up with tears.

"You're not a ghost, are you? You… you're a poltergeist!" However irritating she might be - amongst other qualities, Miss Myrtle certainly wasn't slow. And to think, all the other ghosts looked surprised… Ha ha ha…

Nick, ever the Gryffindor, stepped in to the rescue.

"Come Harry, let me show you your room." And grabbing one of his arms, Nearly-Headless Nick dragged the newly-dead Harry Potter straight through a wall.

And if _that_ wasn't a weird sensation, he didn't know what was.

* * *

Harry's room was surprisingly bare. There was floor, a couple of books on a shelf, and that was pretty much it. Oh, and a couple of chairs. No windows – he was in the dungeons. Harry was not particularly enthused over this until he realised that he was close to the Slytherins. In fact, right next door to their common room. What a coincidence. Mwahahahaaa…

But Harry didn't have long to muse over this delightful fact because Nick had broken off speaking about where he could get new furniture and had suddenly turned quite solemn.

"Harry, there a few things you ought to know." This didn't bode well, so Harry sat down on one of his disgusting chairs and prepared for the worst. But the worst didn't come – just a warning. "Because of Peeves' reputation," Began Nick "I suspect some of the others may be marginally prejudiced towards you Harry. It would be wonderful if you could prove them wrong…" Now, normally Harry would have stopped Nick here, explained the pranks he would have to perform and apologise for any inconvenience, but he had been thinking long and hard since Sirius had told him of his task. For as long as possible, Harry had decided that he didn't want the pranks traced to him. Why? Because he fully intended to have fun, and fun involved letting others get the blame in some cases. He was dead, why should he care anymore? Precisely. Also, he got bonus points on his pranks if some student got in trouble for it. And knowing that his dad and Sirius were watching, Harry was going to make them proud. And make his mother wish she had never let them talk her into sending Harry back.

So Harry nodded blithely to Nick's hopes and paid particular attention to some of the 'rules for the undead'- courtesy most of it. Don't jump out at students and scare them half to death, no entry to any of the students' common rooms/dormrooms etc… As a poltergeist he had the added advantage of being able to pick up stuff… and throw it. But he wasn't about to say that out loud.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was mildly disturbed by the evil look that crossed Harry's face, but swiftly dismissed it. The boy was a good kid and would be an asset to the Hogwarts' long-term residents' society. So Nick continued. "Now you must go and introduce yourself to Professor Dumbledore – he will not yet know of your arrival. You are hereby officially invited to attend the Welcome Feast and Sorting – where you will most likely be… re-introduced to the Hogwarts' population. Gryffindor table is always open to you Harry, but now as a ghost there are no longer any houses or house-rivalries and you are welcome to sit with whosoever you wish. Even Peeves is unbiased on who he targets."

Having no more to say after reminding Harry to see Dumbledore immediately, Nick bade Harry an elegant farewell and disappeared through a wall. (There was no door).

HPHPHP

Not twenty minutes later, Time found Harry-the-Newly-Instated-Poltergeist hovering (yes – it actually came quite naturally) outside of Dumbledore's guarding gargoyle trying to figure out how to pass it. There seemed to be wards against the dead to stop them from simply gliding through the walls and Harry wasn't sure what to do.

It was while Harry was giving the evil eye to a smirking gargoyle (and listing every sweet in existence) that his arm was almost yanked out of its socket and Harry found himself flying upwards and dragged through a ceiling.

A few moments later, Harry found himself in a room very similar to his own except for the fact that it was cluttered to the brim with inkwells, stinkpellets and empty water balloons. And standing opposite him was none other than Peeves, offering his hand in greeting.

Cautiously Harry took the hand, and the first smile of something other than evil that Harry had ever seen on Peeves appeared. Then Peeves – the infamous, rude, insulting, annoying Peeves opened his mouth to speak.

"Malcolm Prevett, pleased to make your acquaintance."

Harry could only gape.

Peeves' smile faltered slightly and he began to pull his hand away. Instead of letting him, Harry grabbed onto it more tightly and allowed a mischievous grin to light up his face.

"Wonderful to finally meet you Mr Prevett. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

* * *

**A/N**

Nice long chapter (woot woot), so an extra long review? (hint hint) Drop me a line, eh? What d'ya say? It'll make my day. Promise! (Hey! That rhymes!)

PS

I have quite a few ideas for pranks, but if you can think of any gems, let me know? Thanks!


End file.
